


The Accident

by Sarah_Black



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, May/December Relationship, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sex Tapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 20:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10929030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_Black/pseuds/Sarah_Black
Summary: Sansa is just testing her new camera out when she receives a surprise visit from the new man in her life.





	The Accident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tommyginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/gifts).



> For Tommyginger's birthday, [AzraelGFG](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AzraelGFG/pseuds/AzraelGFG) and I both took a prompt she gave us about Stannis, Sansa, and a sex tape, and wrote her birthday fics! This is the fic I wrote, but Azzy was kind enough to look it over for me. Thanks, Azzy!
> 
> Happy birthday, Tommy! I hope you're enjoying your day! The Stansa yacht will celebrate with you!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** GRRM owns it all, not me. (Though I wouldn't mind owning a Stansa sex tape. For reasons.)

Sansa bit her lip as she turned the video camera on for the first time, just to make sure it worked. She had bought it because Robb’s wedding was coming up, and he and Jeyne had asked her to film the ceremony. Her old camera just hadn’t seemed up to snuff for something so momentous, so Sansa had decided to splurge on a new camera she’d had her eye on for a while. It was as good an excuse as any.

She spun around her bedroom, recording first the French doors that led to the balcony, then her vanity, the door to the en suite, the cosy corner with the armchair and the floor lamp where she liked to curl up and read, the impressionist painting the dominated the only wall that was free and clear of doors and furniture, the door to the walk-in closet, and then finally the enormous double bed. The bedspread was a warm grey colour, and there was a mass of snow-white decorative pillows piled near the headboard. She zoomed in on them to test the lens, and was pleased with the result. Blood rushed to her cheeks as she was suddenly struck by the memory of what she had been doing in that bed last weekend. _Moaning mainly. … And screaming._ Her face became even hotter as she wondered what it might be like to watch herself… in bed… with someone. Especially with a _certain_ someone. _He’d probably look very good doing naughty things to me on camera…_ Flustered, she zoomed back out and continued to turn in a circle, moving to aim the camera at the door to the hallway outside.

She almost dropped the camera in fright when a man appeared on the screen she was looking at.

“Stannis!”

Stannis hovered by the door. “Your friend let me in. She said you were up here.”

Sansa’s heart was racing, but she managed to find her composure. “Oh, okay.” She paused, trying to think. “I’m sorry, did we have a date today?”

Stannis frowned down at his shoes. “No. I was just in the neighbourhood. I - you said you might want to… “ He stopped and took a deep breath. “You’re obviously busy. I’ll leave.”

“No, no, I’m not busy,” Sansa said, waving the camera a little haphazardly. 

“You’re not… filming?” Stannis asked, raising a brow.

“Just testing the camera,” she said, trying to sound light and breezy.

“For the wedding, right?” Stannis asked, furrowing his brow. “Your brother’s?”

What she had with Stannis was very new. She was surprised he remembered her mentioning it. Men usually didn’t remember much of what she said on dates. They were quite often very busy staring at her. But then, Stannis wasn’t like most men.

She nodded and walked over to her vanity to put the camera down. Stannis lingered by the door.

“You can come in,” she said, shooting him a smile. It was rather endearing that he was hesitating to cross the threshold. He certainly hadn’t been that reticent when he’d rocked her world last weekend.

“I’m not sure that’s wise,” Stannis said, looking at her with heat in his eyes. 

“I think it’s _very_ wise,” Sansa countered, her insides already warming up and purring at the idea of a Thursday night spent entirely in bed with a man who actually knew what he was doing. “As long as you close the door behind you,” she added.

Stannis swallowed and took a step forward, his eyes still smoldering. “What about your friend?”

“Margaery will probably be heading out soon,” Sansa said. “And if she’s staying in, she knows to mind her own business. Anyway, her room’s on the other side of the house.” _In case you want to make me scream again. Which I would really not mind. At all._

Stannis’ lips twitched. It was almost as if he’d heard her thoughts. He took another step. 

There was a charged moment where Sansa might or might not have forgotten how to breathe. 

He closed the door.

“You didn’t finish what you were going to say,” Sansa said, feeling her knees weaken as Stannis started to advance on her.

“Oh?” He had reached her, and his hand had gone to her cheek. She closed her eyes as his thumb stroked her from cheekbone to chin.

“You said that I said I might want to… something?” she said, her voice shaky. Her heart was pounding, and she was drowning in the scent that followed Stannis wherever he went. It was a subtle cologne, or perhaps just aftershave, and it was sharp and masculine and completely addictive.

“Last time I was here,” Stannis said, his voice so low that it was practically a murmur, “you said you’d like to see me again soon. You mentioned a walk along the seaside.”

 _I did?_ Sansa’s brain wasn’t keeping up. All she was thinking about was how Stannis’ thumb had moved to touch her lower lip, and how _intense_ his eyes were.

Almost everything about Stannis was intense, now that she thought about it.

“We can go for a walk later,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him with everything she had. She wanted to make him as breathless as he made her feel.

He made a muffled noise that might have been surprise or pleasure (or both), and he dragged his hands down the sides of her body, pausing at her waist, and then sliding lower, moving behind her, cupping and fondling her ass. She moaned into his mouth, and started to walk them closer to the bed.

Somehow he ended up sitting on the edge of the bed with her straddling his lap. He was getting harder beneath her, and she wished she had worn a skirt or a dress today. She really couldn’t feel him properly through the layers of suit trousers and jeans that separated them. But at least her shirt was thin enough to let her feel his hands through it.

There was less urgency about the way he touched her now than there had been last time. The tension that had built between them over the past few weeks had been released last weekend, and now he seemed more keen to… explore.

Sansa tugged Stannis’ tie loose, and after that there was no stopping them. Their clothes came off so fast that by the time they were done it was as if some sort of freak hurricane had passed through her room. Her bra actually ended up dangling off her floor lamp on the other side of the room.

“May I?” she asked as soon as his boxer briefs came off. His cock looked even better than she remembered, but it had been late at night when they’d been together last time. Her memories mostly involved how incredibly good he had _felt_. She could actually see him properly now. It was still early in the evening, and the sunset was filling her room with an orange glow.

“What do you want to do?” Stannis asked, proving once again that he was not like any other man Sansa had slept with. Most guys would, in her experience, just say yes without thinking. She clearly wanted to do something to his cock, after all, and she was naked.

“Go down on you,” she said, her face heating up because he’d made her spell it out. She hadn’t done it last weekend. There hadn’t been time. He had gone down on her, and before she’d had a chance to return the favour, he had been inside her. She squeezed her thighs together at the memory.

Sansa saw the muscles in Stannis’ jaw working, and his Adam’s apple bob up and down. He nodded twice. It was almost a frantic movement for him, considering how controlled he usually was.

She sank to the floor, and tugged on his legs to get him to move closer to the edge of the bed so she could kneel between his thighs. For a moment she just kept still and admired him. Cocks were never precisely _pretty,_ but she really did have very fond memories of what this particular one had made her feel. It was a very nice size, longer than anything she’d had before - though not absurdly long - and properly thick. There were veins, and one of them was a lot more noticeable than the others. She brought a finger up to trace its path along the shaft.

His cock twitched.

She looked up at Stannis to find him watching her with his intense eyes, his nostrils flaring a bit with every breath he took. He didn’t look impatient, however. Just… intense.

She looked back at his cock and let her finger tease the foreskin that was partially obscuring the head. She could see it peeking out a little -- red and angry looking. She decided to reveal it properly, and Stannis made a strangled sound when she did it. There was a clear drop of fluid leaking from the little slit. She licked it up, and Stannis made another strangled noise.

He tasted like men usually tasted. Salty and bitter and not all that wonderful. But she liked it because it was _him._ Because tasting it made him make strangled noises. She really liked the noises.

She got to work. Giving blowjobs wasn’t easy, but Sansa had found out fairly early on that if the guy she was with let her do it how she wanted without trying to force his cock down her throat, and if he was vocal in his appreciation, she could almost get off on it. It didn’t make her orgasm or anything, but it could make her very _very_ wet.

Stannis’ little strangled noises were definitely working for her. But as she sucked on the tip, and stroked the base, she wondered if she could get him to say something.

She looked up to see him staring down at her, his eyes glazed, but somehow still intense, too.

With a faint pop, she released him from her mouth, but kept stroking the shaft. “You can tell me what you like, you know,” she said, shooting him a smile. “Faster or slower, deeper or harder…”

Stannis closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again she felt his hand land on the back of her head. She liked the way his fingers scratched lightly at her scalp. “Don’t stop,” he said, his voice gravelly and deeper than it had been before. It was _sinful._

She went back to work, and almost melted when he started talking again, his voice still sounding the way it did.

“Keep going… gods… I’ve never - this is… you feel so good…” He was breathing hard, and his hips and thighs were twitching. “Could you - ah - a little faster?”

She obliged him, and fondled his balls and sucked a little harder too for good measure. He deserved it. He was making her wetter than she could ever remember getting while doing this.

“ _Fuck… !_ ”

Sansa moaned and retracted her last thought. _Now_ she was wetter than she had ever been while doing this. Who knew reducing Stannis Baratheon to profanity was such a turn-on? She could feel his hand gripping the back of her head more tightly, but he wasn’t pushing her, trying to make her take him deeper. Usually she would have appreciated that, but right now she almost felt like she wouldn’t mind if he did it.

“Sansa,” Stannis groaned. She could feel his balls tightening up in her hand. “You have to stop if you don’t want -”

She redoubled her efforts, determined to hear what it sounded like when he unraveled completely.

He had been fairly vocal last weekend, but it had been different. Those had been grunts of effort, and as sexy as they had been, these drawn out groans she was pulling from him now were a thousand times more delicious.

 _Gods._ After the weeks she had spent trying to get his uptight self to even realise she was flirting with him, they were practically the best sounds she had ever heard.

“Fuck - Sansa - I’m going to -”

His grip on her head became even tighter, and he groaned again - louder than ever - as her mouth filled with hot, salty fluid.

She swallowed, and kept sucking and stroking his cock, though more gently than before.

He was breathing very loudly, exhaling one shuddering breath after another.

She let him go and sat back on her heels, looking up at him. “Good?” she asked with a smile that she hoped wasn’t _too_ smug.

He swallowed and nodded once. “Yes.” His face was a lot redder than it usually was. “Thank you.”

She almost squealed. He was too endearing for words, sometimes.

“Come here,” he murmured, offering her a hand up. She let him help her to her feet, and was delighted when he didn’t let her stay standing for very long.

They were tangled up and kissing on top of her bedspread before she knew what had happened. His hands were everywhere, and he didn’t seem to mind that she probably tasted like semen. His tongue was just as eager to explore her mouth as it had seemed from the moment when they had first kissed.

A pulse of arousal shot through her at the memory.

As if he sensed her need, he started kissing a path down her body, lingering at her nipples until she squeaked, and then pushing her thighs apart with the same determined motion he had used last weekend. She propped herself up on her elbows to look at what he was doing, but the muscles in her arms went weak at the sight of him, focused and intense - _gods,_ always so intense… - between her thighs.

She flopped back down to her mountain of decorative pillows when he started to lick her, her entire body shuddering with pleasure.

It had taken him a few minutes to figure out what she liked last time, but apparently he had a good memory, because now he went straight for the kill. His tongue felt amazing against her hyper-aroused sex: soft and wet and _deliberate._

He didn’t seem to be in a particular hurry, but her orgasm was building at the speed of an oncoming bullet train regardless.

She was crying out long before it was entirely dignified for her to be doing it.

He lapped at her steadily, avoiding direct contact with her clit, but always keeping close, and used his hands to stroke and fondle her thighs. She was a whimpering, trembling mess almost from start to finish. He made her come twice in succession before he crawled up her body to kiss her again. She moaned helplessly into the kiss, tasting her own sharp taste on his tongue and feeling weak and dizzy with pleasure.

Sansa could tell that he was hard again. He had that sort of look in his eyes, and she could feel him nudging her drenched folds: hot and heavy and wonderfully blunt. She raised her thighs, angling her hips to welcome him, and did everything she physically could to encourage him to come in.

“Do you want it?” he asked in that sinful, gravelly voice, still _looking_ at her.

“Yes, gods, _yes!_ ”

He thrust inside with a grunt, sheathing himself completely in one go.

Her toes curled, and she closed her eyes so he wouldn’t see them roll into the back of her head for a second. Feeling his cock was so good. The stretch was so good. Being full was _so good._

He shifted around until he was on his knees, and grabbed her ankles.

She opened her eyes and parted her lips, staring at him as she wondered whether he was planning to do what she hoped he was planning to do. He met her eyes and gave a tiny nod. She nodded back, closed her eyes again, and took a deep breath.

He pulled almost all the way out and plunged back in, creating a loud smack as their bodies came back together. The breath she had taken left her with a woosh.

He did it again.

And again.

Somehow he managed to thrust harder every time.

Before long she was whining for him to keep going, her voice almost completely foreign to her own ears.

Her memories from last weekend had not done him justice. His cock felt _amazing._ His stamina was something out of a lurid romance novel. The sounds he made… the sounds their _bodies_ made… it was all just completely _filthy._

She loved every second of it.

“Are you close?” she managed to ask him after a while, her voice breathless and strangely choked. She was getting very close, herself, which was odd because she usually never came without her clit being stimulated, too. That is, unless the guy was taking her from behind. There was a spot inside her that could be reached in that position that guys never usually brushed up against in quite the right way, otherwise.

“Getting there,” Stannis said, fairly out of breath, too.

Feeling her face heat up, Sansa closed her eyes. “Do you want me to turn around?” she asked, her cheeks burning hotter. For some reason it always felt intensely embarrassing to ask for this.

“Why?” he asked, still out of breath, but sounding curious now, too.

She hid her face with her hands. Soon it would be possible to fry an egg on her cheeks. “Because I like it that way,” she mumbled.

Stannis took a moment to think about it. He slowed his thrusts while he considered the matter, dragging his cock in and out of her in a way that made her moan.

“All right,” he finally said. Pulling back completely. There was an awkward wet noise that made Sansa wince, but Stannis just ignored it.

She hurried to turn around, getting into the undignified position that by some unfair twist of fate made her orgasm like no other, feeling relieved to be able to hide her face among the decorative pillows, though she knew she’d probably end up having to clean makeup off of them, later.

Stannis positioned himself behind her without much ado, though he did pause to fondle her ass a little as he guided his cock into place. It slipped a little, and nudged her back entrance for a second that made her tense up and stop breathing, but he righted himself soon enough.

A drawn out, pathetic whine of pleasure escaped her when he pushed back inside, filling her until she could feel his balls pressing against her.

_Yes. Yes yes yes._

He was hitting just the right spot.

When he started to move again, gripping her hips tightly and filling the room with loud smacks as his hips performed a seemingly endless series of ruthless, powerful thrusts, Sansa could do nothing but give herself over to the sensations he was creating.

Soon she was making high-pitched, incoherent sounds each time he filled her. This only seemed to spur him on, and somehow he started moving even _faster._

Something inside her clenched up and released a tidal wave of hot, overwhelming pleasure inside her. It made her muscles relax and cramp up both at once, and she couldn’t help but scream at the intensity of it all.

She wanted to go limp once it was over, but Stannis was still moving. Still _fucking her._ Her inner walls pulsed, arousal at war with exhaustion. It still felt good, but she wasn’t sure she could survive another orgasm like her last one.

Thankfully, Stannis’ rhythm started to stutter. The low grunts she had been enjoying for a while now got louder. His grip on her hips became even tighter.

“Fuck - Sansa…” he choked out, his hips launching into a frenzy. His balls felt tight as the slapped against her, and he groaned as he gradually slowed back down and came to a halt.

They collapsed into a bit of a heap, but untangled themselves fairly quickly when it became clear that it was much too hot and sweaty and hard to breathe.

They were silent for a while, but it was a comfortable silence. Stannis stroked her arm from shoulder to elbow. It was a idle movement, but there was a hint of possessiveness and affection to it that Sansa really liked.

Eventually, once her breathing was completely under control, and she was fairly sure she had ruined the bedspread by not going to clean up before their mingled fluids dribbled out of her and all over the place, she worked up the nerve to shoot him a teasing smile.

He raised an eyebrow as if in question.

“Let’s do that again,” she said, her smile widening to a grin.

He didn’t react like she had expected. There was no huff of amusement. Not even an eyeroll. Instead he just gave her a solemn nod.

“Give me a few minutes.”

She gave a nervous giggle. “Really?”

He nodded again, still looking completely serious.

_Oh, gods._

***

“How was the wedding?” Stannis asked, sitting down on Sansa’s bed and going about the chore of unlacing his shoes. Sansa was fixing her makeup in the en suite, the door ajar.

“I wish you could have been there,” Sansa said wistfully, “it was really great.”

After a brief moment of deliberation, he continued to undress, folding his jacket and placing it on Sansa’s reading chair. It had been heavily implied that the whole point of him accompanying her to her house after their dinner had been to take their clothes off.

“Perhaps I will be able to accompany you to the next wedding you’re invited to,” he said, hoping it was not too forward of him. He was still getting used to the idea of dating Sansa. He was still getting used to the idea of dating _at all._ It had been a long time since he’d tried it. It had always seemed needlessly complicated, and Melisandre had always been around to scratch the itch for sexual intercourse when it arose.

But Melisandre had found a younger man to satisfy her. Someone more willing to play along with her increasingly outlandish Azor Ahai fantasies. That had been a year ago.

“That would be nice,” Sansa said, sounding genuinely pleased with the idea.

He let go of the breath he’d been holding, feeling relieved.

“I would have asked to change my RSVP to add a plus one, but Mum was frantic enough about fitting everyone in for dinner as it was. I definitely don’t think she’ll ever throw another wedding reception in Winterfell. I think she spent all of Sunday and Monday in bed. Completely exhausted.”

Stannis was down to his trousers. Would it seem presumptuous to take them off? He frowned down at his belt.

“Well, we’ve only been dating less than three weeks,” he said, his hands playing with his belt buckle indecisively.

Sansa entered the bedroom again, her eyes immediately raking over his chest. He dropped his hands to his sides and tried to stand up a little straighter. He wasn’t entirely used to pretty young girls looking at him like Sansa did.

“Do you want to see a bit of the ceremony? I promise I won’t make you watch the whole thing. I’d just like your opinion on the lighting.”

Sansa was a passionate amateur photographer and filmmaker in her spare time, and as Stannis was a fairly well known director, he supposed it was only natural for her to seek his opinion. He nodded.

“It’s not going to be anything like one of your documentaries,” Sansa said apologetically, “but I’m hoping I managed to make Jeyne’s dress look as good on the screen as it did in real life.”

“I’m sure it’s good work,” Stannis said as he moved to the bed and sat on the edge. 

Sansa was already rummaging through an expensive looking bag, but she threw a smile over her shoulder. Her cheeks were a little flushed. “Thank you.”

She handed him a camera that Stannis recognised as being top of the range for the sort of work Sansa was likely to do with it. He gave her a nod of approval.

“Why don’t you have a look through the footage while I get changed?” Sansa suggested, already walking to her closet. “This off the shoulder thing is driving me insane.”

Stannis had appreciated the view of her shoulders during their dinner, but he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t prefer her to get undressed.

Half listening to Sansa’s movements inside the walk-in closet, half paying attention to the camera he was fiddling with, Stannis wondered whether he should invite Sansa to visit his home next time. It was a lot less conveniently located, but there was more privacy on Dragonstone.

He had no friends sharing his house.

The camera started playing some footage that was clearly from a wedding. There was a pretty girl in a white dress on the screen, smiling brightly. He studied the clip, making a note of the lighting. It was quite good. He doubted he would have had it shot differently. But then, he was used to directing documentaries. Interviews with people. Buildings. Ships. Sometimes animals.

He decided to take a better look at the beginning of the clip, and went back.

“What do you think?”

Stannis looked up at the sound of Sansa’s voice. She was standing in the doorway of the walk-in closet, dressed in a very tiny, very lacy negligé. It was white, and almost see-through, and judging by the state of her nipples she was either cold or aroused. Her legs seemed to go on forever, and yet her feet were bare.

He swallowed thickly, feeling his blood rush south.

He squeezed the camera, and must have accidentally touched the ‘play’ button on the touchscreen. A piece of footage started playing, and Stannis almost dropped the device when he heard the sound of his own voice.

He could hear himself _grunting._

He stared down at the screen, and felt his throat go completely dry.

He was naked. Naked on top of an equally naked Sansa. _Fucking_ her. The room was well lit, though the light was a little orange, and the camera had picked up every last detail of the filthy things his counterpart on the screen was doing to Sansa’s counterpart.

“What are you looking at?” Sansa asked, her voice hushed.

He looked from the screen to her face. She had gone completely white; the skin of her face practically matched the negligé she was wearing.

“You tell me,” he managed to say, horror and arousal battling for dominance inside of him. On one hand, the idea that a recording of such a private moment was somehow in existence sent chills down his spine, but on the other hand… It was strangely erotic to see himself fucking Sansa. 

He looked down to the screen again, watching in fascination as the muscles of his buttocks and thighs tensed with effort in every thrust. It was also rather entrancing to see Sansa from the angle the camera provided -- the way her legs were spread in a ‘V’ in front of his on-camera self, and the way his hands were wrapped around her ankles as he ploughed into her. Again and again and again.

Seeing it made him remember how it had felt, and though it was vaguely nauseating to hear his own obnoxious grunts, he rather enjoyed being able to listen to Sansa’s attractive moans again. 

“Is that… us?” Sansa asked, her voice even smaller than before. Practically just the squeak of a mouse.

“Yes.” He swallowed, trying to moisten his desert-dry throat. No luck.

“But… how?”

“You didn’t film us on purpose?” he asked, mostly just to rule the option out. Based on her reaction just now, and on the fact that she had recorded wedding footage right after, he thought it was very unlikely that she had meant to create this recording.

“Of course not,” she said, shaking her head and covering her mouth with a hand.

His thumb hovered over the button that would stop the scene playing, but he was frozen in place. He both wanted and did not want to see what happened next.

The camera’s microphone didn’t pick up the details of what the Sansa on the screen was asking for, but Stannis remembered. He forgot to breathe while the two figures on the screen switched position, and didn’t remember to fill his lungs again until his vision started to blur from lack of oxygen.

The Stannis on the screen was fucking Sansa from behind, and watching it was making him absurdly hard.

“Oh,” the real Sansa who was in the room with him said. She had crossed over to the bed and was sitting beside him, looking at the screen. Her cheeks were glowing pink. “Oh, my.”

 _Oh, my?_ He looked at her, feeling rather incredulous.

Finally he found the wherewithal to stop the video. He took a few deep breaths to clear his brain of the fog of arousal that had momentarily sidetracked him.

“We have to delete this,” he said, trying to sound dignified, but probably sounding a bit unnerved instead.

“You think so?” Sansa asked, biting her lip. Her cheeks were still very pink.

“Of course. Don’t you?” He would have thought that - as a pretty young woman - Sansa would worry about such footage existing. This sort of thing had a habit of getting out and ruining reputations. (Although in some cases it seemed to lead to lucrative careers, Stannis had to admit.)

“You don’t want to… watch it?” Sansa asked, blinking at him and still chewing on her lip.

Stannis cleared his throat and shifted about, wishing he had already taken his trousers off. “I think I’ve seen enough.”

Sansa looked down at her lap. It was almost like she had… deflated.

“Do you… want to? Watch it, that is?” he asked, wincing at how awkward he sounded.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Sansa said in a rush, looking up and searching his eyes.

Stannis wondered how long the video was. The camera must have been recording from the start. If he recalled correctly, Sansa had been testing the camera when he had visited her. She had placed it on her vanity, and she hadn’t touched it after that. That meant…

_There’s footage of her giving me a blowjob._

“I suppose we could look at the beginning,” he said, trying to speak in a measured voice.

Sansa perked up. “Yeah?”

He looked down at the camera and started pressing buttons, trying to find the beginning of the recording. It wasn’t difficult.

Sansa asked him to stand up, and he did so, half aware of her stripping the bedspread off, and scattering decorative pillows on the floor. He was more than half aware of what she did next. It was very hard to ignore a beautiful woman as she took one’s trousers off, after all. Even when one was fiddling about with a camera.

They ended up in bed, Sansa still - unfortunately - in her negligé, while he was naked. He would have objected to the unfair arrangement if Sansa hadn’t started to stroke his cock.

“Press play,” she whispered, her soft hand squeezing him just so.

What followed was possibly the most erotic handjob of his life.

They watched the screen as their past selves tore each other’s clothing off. For a few seconds the screen was obstructed by Stannis’ shirt - but it slid off the camera and fell to the floor.

Stannis felt his face heat up at the sounds his past self made when Sansa started going down on him. Sansa’s hand in the present made him feel slightly less embarrassed.

“I like being able to see the look on your face,” Sansa whispered shyly. “It looks like you really liked it…”

Stannis had been ignoring the look on his past self’s face in favour of watching Sansa. It was very interesting to be able to see her from a different perspective, kneeling between his thighs like that. “Of course I liked it,” he muttered. “Do you know how often I -” He cut himself off, grimacing as he realised what he’d been about to admit.

Sansa’s hand sped up a little, addling his brains. “How often you what?”

 _Fuck._ “How often I fantasised about you doing that,” he groaned, glancing back and forth between the screen and Sansa’s face, feeling completely overstimulated.

“You fantasised about me?” Sansa’s eyes lit up. “When?”

She was circling the head of his cock with her thumb, slipping and sliding in his precome. On the screen, her head was bobbing up and down a little. He couldn’t see all of her due to the way his own thigh was blocking the view, but he could _remember._

“You kept showing up on set,” he said, trying to keep his thoughts coherent. “You kept _touching me._ ”

They hadn’t been inappropriate touches, but… nobody ever touched him. No one except Melisandre on those occasions when he had needed sexual release in the past, and that had been _completely_ different.

She had brought him lemon water. Without being asked. Even though he had a PA that was supposed to do things like that.

She had smiled. Smiled like she really liked spending time around him.

“I didn’t think you noticed,” Sansa said, speaking softly, her hand stilling.

“Of course I noticed,” he said, huffing out an irritated breath. “Anyway, you wore that dress, remember?”

His cock twitched at the memory. _Gods._ There had been absolutely no back on that dress. It had covered her ass and a bit of her thighs - and her front, of course - but other than that she had been naked.

He had spent an _hour_ with his hand at the end of that day.

But now he had _her_ hand on him -- thankfully moving again. And he was watching his past self orgasm with her mouth on him.

“I remember. Margaery leant it to me.”

He was rapidly losing the ability to speak, so he only grunted. On the screen he was getting ready go down on Sansa, and he paid rapt attention, wanting to see the way her face looked while he did that.

“Can we skip that bit?” Sansa asked, sounding embarrassed.

He fought to keep his disappointment from showing. It was unfair of her to ask this of him while she had him at a disadvantage. It was impossible to deny her anything while she was stroking him the way she was.

Fighting to regain his senses, he tried to distract her from what was on the tiny screen. “Do you want to know what else I fantasised about?”

She looked intrigued. “If you want to tell me. You don’t have to.”

“I - “ he took a deep breath and bit the inside of his cheek. Seeing Sansa in the throes of pleasure, pleasure _he_ had given her, was intensely erotic. “I fantasised about coming home to you at the end of each day,” he managed to say, his breathing laboured.

Her grip on his cock tightened in a way that made him groan with pleasure. “Really?”

It was a bit pathetic, but it was true. His first fantasies about Sansa had not been remotely sexual. Those had come later. His first fantasies about her had all been about having a _life_ with her. Coming home to her. Asking her about her day. Having her ask him in return. Kissing her good-bye in the morning and hello at night.

“Yes,” he ground out, thrusting up into her hand. The sounds coming from the camera were driving him wild. Sansa’s past self was in the middle of an orgasm, and hearing it made him want to recreate everything on the tiny screen.

She kissed him. It was passionate and affectionate, and Stannis never wanted it to end. But when she ended it in order to strip her negligé off, he decided that sometimes good things had to end in order to make way for better things.

“Do you want to keep watching?” he asked, raking his eyes over her her body, staring like he’d never get another chance to look at her.

“No,” she said, her voice low and her cheeks pink.

“Good.” He shut the camera off and placed it on the closest nightstand. “I’d rather make new memories.”

***

**Three weeks later.**

“Hello? Stannis? It’s Sansa.” 

“Yes, this is Stannis speaking. Is everything all right?”

“Fine. Everything’s fine. Except…” Sansa looked at the bored man who was standing in front of her with a screen he wanted her to sign her name on, and hesitated.

“Except what?” Stannis sounded mildly irritated, but also as if he was trying to be patient.

“There’s a delivery man at my door.”

“Ah.”

She shot the delivery man an apologetic look. He rolled his eyes. “Ah? What do you mean, ‘ah?’” 

“Well… I may have ordered a safe for you.”

“A safe.” Her voice was flat. And seeing as she was looking at a box labeled with exactly what sort of safe Stannis had ordered for her, it was more of a statement than a question.

“Yes. I thought… you know. For the video files.”

Sansa covered her mouth with the hand that wasn’t occupied with the phone and tried not to burst into laughter in front of the increasingly annoyed looking delivery man.

“You honestly want me to… oh, never mind. Fine. I’ll accept the safe. But we’re talking about this over dinner. Love you. Bye.” She hung up without waiting for Stannis to answer and gave the delivery man a wide, please-don’t-be-annoyed-with-me smile. “Sorry about that. Do I just sign here?”

The man looked less grouchy and nodded.

He did not help her install the safe. The next grouchy guy that appeared on her doorstep did that.

By the time Stannis arrived for dinner, Sansa had a very shiny safe hidden behind the impressionist painting in her room. She felt completely bemused by it, but she supposed having a safe might come in useful at some point. Arya wouldn’t be able to rifle through Sansa’s diary next time she visited.

“I can’t believe you bought me a safe,” Sansa said almost as soon as Stannis walked through the door.

“Where’s Margaery?” he said, looking around the foyer with an uncomfortable expression.

“Out with her flavour of the week,” Sansa said, knowing that Stannis wouldn’t relax until he knew they were alone in the house.

“A safe is the safest place for sensitive documents and... video clips,” Stannis said stiffly, though he nodded in thanks when she helped him take his coat off and put it away for him.

“You’re paranoid,” Sansa said, smiling and shaking her head.

“I’m cautious.”

“You’re cute.”

Stannis did not seem to know how to respond to that. He blinked at her and looked vaguely horrified.

Sansa was delighted. She loved putting him off balance. “Now bring your cute butt to the kitchen. We need to get started on dinner if we want to eat before nine.” She turned around and started to walk towards the kitchen, but Stannis caught her around the waist, turned her back around to face him, and pulled her into his arms. She let out a startled giggle, but melted happily into the embrace.

“You are becoming much too impertinent, young lady,” he murmured into her ear, his voice husky. “Must I teach you a lesson?”

She kissed him squarely on the mouth, teasing him with her tongue, and then nibbling on his lower lip when they came up for air. When she felt his grip on her slacken due to her masterful way of distracting him, she took a step back and winked. “You’ll have to catch me first!”

She ran, knowing that he’d chase her. Knowing that he’d catch her. And knowing they’d probably just end up ordering take-out at some point after ten.

She smiled.

**The end.**


End file.
